A mixed bipolar episode, for those who don’t know, means the afflicted is suffering from down-in-the-dumps depression along with higher-than-high aspirations at the same time. For the past few months, I’ve wanted nothing more than to jump headfirst into an active volcano and erase all that is Robin from the face of the earth. While thinking that, I also managed to write a book of poems. I still don’t know what I’ll call the collection but I’m hoping it’ll be in print by this summer or fall. I really have in mind one publisher to handle my book, Copper Canyon Press right here in Port Townsend. Their requirement is some of my poems had to have been published by other concerns. I’ve thus taken the liberty of sending out my poems for consideration in the hope that, if I get at least five or ten of them published, Copper Canyon would sign my book. We’ll see.
Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve made an entry on this site. I’m proud to say I’ve maintained this blog, albeit haphazardly, for five years or so. In all that time, I’ve left homelessness and stabilized my life around a sleepy Victorian town (Port Townsend). I have a doctor I see every three or four months, take my pills regularly, eat and drink like a champ, watch movies and TV, and every so often, go for an afternoon constitutional around the block. I wish I still had my car, but oh well. Things change.
I’ve been domiciled for about seven months now so I’m not complaining; I got too old for all this sleeping in the back of the car/wandering the streets nonsense anyway. I go to the local food bank relatively frequently, I’d say about 2-3 times a month. It really helps out since the majority of my SSDI goes to the rent.
So here we have a new near coming up. I have two TV’s – A 55″ Roku and an Android box hooked up via HDMI to the Roku which, in essence, gives me two TV’s. For the past few months I’ve been programming the Android box to where I now get about 10,000 channels. But guess what? Watching TV can still be a bore so I decided to get back into one of my earlier hobbies – writing and recording music. Since I won’t be working with a band, I figure it’d be easier and simpler to just record electronic dance music. So, to that end, I have an electronic keyboard and monitors coming here from Amazon in a few days. And I can’t wait!
Basically speaking, I live in a nursing home. At 56, I’m still the youngest bloke here. I’ve been thrilled to find out that quite a few of my neighbors have reduced hearing because of their advanced age; this bodes well for me and makes it possible, I hope, to build a home recording studio here. Anyway, that’s where I am now. Things aren’t too bad; my health is relatively okay except for my gout-weakened legs. I can’t complain, though. Bombs aren’t flying overhead and there’s no imminent threat of a Pacific tsunami to Port Townsend any time soon. What does 2019 have in store for us? Only time will tell. Stay tuned.
I should be. I’m not fighting in a vicious, endless war somewhere. I’m not in jail or homeless. Physically, I’m relatively okay except for my knees which have been giving me gout pains for months. My rent gets paid every month thanks to the Social Security Administration. I have food in my cupboard thanks to the SSA, food stamps, and the Port Townsend Food Bank. I have a big ass 55″ 4K Smart TV and this laptop which I’ve had for years. I have a bed, a sofa, a microwave oven, a toaster and a vacuum cleaner which I’d gotten from OlyCAP (Olympic Community Action Programs). So, nothing to complain about, right? Then why am I so damned depressed?
I recently got rid of my car which I’d had for five years. As you know, it wasn’t just a car; it was my home as well. Because where I live is a bit of a distance from downtown where all the stores are, I’m dependent on the buses. That isn’t a problem, though, because they do run every hour during the day, none on Sunday. I spend my entire days alone. I’m not exactly isolated, but I’d just rather be by myself. Less angst and turmoil that way.
The anti-depressants and anti-psychotics didn’t work for me. All they did was give me horrible side effects so I had to discontinue them. Meditation is a waste of time because my mind never slows down. It wanders and wanders, always thinking about something. Basically, I can’t concentrate. It seems like the only way for me to sit still and watch a movie is to have a beer or two beneath my belt. Not that I necessarily like drinking, but it does slow me down enough to where I can see a flick all the way through. Hopefully this funk, this dark cloud and doom of despair, won’t last.
It took me all of fifty-five years to get here, but I’m glad I did. Port Townsend is turning out to be quite the villa. It’s quiet, relatively safe, and most importantly, lacking in the drugs I used to abuse years ago. What I’ve been learning to do lately is leave my past behaviors behind. In the past, for instance, I was a generally paranoid person. I locked my windows and doors every time I left the house. Hell, I even kept the windows locked when I was inside the house because I thought someone would climb in during the night when I was sleeping. In Port Townsend, I don’t have to worry about these things. I leave my door unlocked most of the time, even when I’m out of the house like now, and even leave my car doors unlocked. Tonight, when I go to bed, I’m gonna keep all the windows open. This part is still a little nerve wracking to me because I live on the first floor of my apartment complex. If I was on one of the upper floors, that wouldn’t be an issue. Still, I have to get used to having the windows open at night, too, especially these days when it’s pretty hot outside.
I recently indulged myself in a 55″ UHD 4K Roku TV by TCL. The picture is like a giant postcard – clear, bright and ultra colorful. Movies look great on it. Unfortunately, my internet connection is poor so I can’t stream movies as effectively as I’d like. I might get Wave Broadband internet later this year, we’ll see. Right now they have a special for $19.99/month, but after six months, it’ll be $69.99. That’s a little too dear for me considering my rent is $737/month. I mean, I can pay the $69.99/month, but that’s really cutting into my SSDI money which I’d rather save for the future (being unpredictable, as you may know). For now, though, I’m just enjoying being domiciled. I mean, after five long years of homelessness, it’s nice to be able to finally get some well-needed sleep.
After nearly five years of homelessness, I might finally move into a one bedroom apartment in Port Townsend at a retirement complex reserved for those over 62 years old or disabled. This should happen in a month or so to the tune of $950/mo. That’s a bit expensive given I only receive around $1270/mo but the complex does provide tenants with breakfast and dinner as well as all utilities. In the end, it may work out.
I’ve been feeling suicidal lately and it’s why I haven’t written in my blog much. I just want to sleep all day, if I could. Very difficult when you’re homeless, though, especially now when it’s sunny all the time and finding a good, quiet shaded spot is like looking for a needle in a haystack. I’m sleep deprived, and that’s what’s driving my depression. I’m also losing weight, but that’s not a complaint. I want to be lighter and have more energy. If I can reverse my diabetes, good, even if it means me having to stop taking Abilify, the anti-psychotic I’m on that can contribute to both binge eating and problem gambling.
Speaking of problem gambling, I’ve lost quite a few bits of change at two casinos near here – The Point and 7 Cedars. Technically, they’re not near here. The Point is 35 miles away in Kingston and 7 Cedars is 25 miles in Blyn near Sequim. One night, I was so drunk I blacked out in a parking lot in Port Townsend and work up at the Indian Arts Center across the street from 7 Cedars. Talk about unsafe! I don’t remember driving the 25 miles to get there. Obviously, I did it in a complete haze. Very dangerous. I woke up vomiting, looked around, saw a giant Native American sign and thought, “What the hell? There is no place with a sign like this in Port Townsend.” That’s when I realized I wasn’t in PT anymore. Scary. The drink was whiskey, I think. Never again, though. I learned my lesson. I could’ve crashed or hit somebody.
Lastly, on a positive note, I spoke to the local hospital’s financial aid center and they agreed I was poor enough that they would cover my hospital expenses. Sweet. That’s one less worry off my mind, especially since I just spent $200 fixing my car (new battery, cables). Now, if I could only find a quiet place to get some sleep.
In my journey in trying to find a place to live, a city, town or village I can call home, I have to be mindful of the fact that racism can rear its ugly little head from time to time. Typically, small towns have a conservative mindset and may not be readily accepting of outsiders. I do like small towns, though, because its far away from the hustle and bustle of the larger cities and you can breathe easily there and, in my case, lack the substances I was addicted to for years.
But racism doesn’t exist solely in small towns; large cities like Seattle, New York, Boston, Nashville, Portland and L.A. have also sprouted incidents that would shock any decent living person back to the Stone Ages. In fact, where in America can someone be immune from racism? These days that’s probably an impossible proposition but I’m hoping a small, liberal-minded, artistic, immigrant-welcoming town like Port Townsend would fit the bill.
So far I’ve been exposed to incidents in this town that smacks of racism, and interestingly, both relate to Obama. In the first incident, I overheard two women speaking at a bar. One woman said, very clearly, that Obama did nothing in his eight years in office but fund ISIS. That’s just her opinion, of course, but it speaks volumes. In the second incident, a police cruiser was speeding up a main drag, its lights flashing and siren blaring. This man came up to me and asked, “Do you know where the cops are going?” I answered, “No.” He said, “They’re going after Obama because he’s busy fucking himself, and Hilary’s helping him do it.” Well, to me, that’s a strange statement for a white man to make to a black man out of the blue, but I could be wrong. At least the owner of the pickup truck I took the picture of in Port Hadlock is doing his best to address racism. Kudos to him.
You know what I’ve begun to notice in Port Townsend? I’ve run into at least four people who speak in word salad, what Wikipedia calls logorrhea. They just go on and on speaking incoherent gibberish which, to them, must make sense, but to other people, is just mindless one-sided conversation that could make one’s head explode. As soon as they think they’ve found an audience (that is, me) they unload every single idea that pops up in their minds. Very tiring, to say the least. Maybe they’re schizophrenic, or aspie like myself, or suffer from brain damage. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t happen to me. Then again, if it did, I wouldn’t be aware of it. Somehow, though, I get the feeling that if I stick around here, it’ll happen eventually. Yikes!
Port Townsend is a boat building, Victorian, seaside arts community that is popular with the retirement set. I’ve been here for one month and so far I have mixed feelings about it. Some people I’ve run into are outright friendly; others give me the feeling that they’re undercover racists but are too ball-less to show it. I could be wrong; wouldn’t be the first time, but that gnawing feeling one gets when one is stared at by strangers in public emporiums and other places seems to invade my thoughts negatively every so often. I’m holding out hope that, being homeless, I’m just accidentally running into the dregs of society and things will take a turn for the positive once I’m domiciled.
As far as the city proper is concerned, it is a small town so I wasn’t expecting wall to wall excitement. There are a lot of parks around, enough so that I can find places to doze off, in my car or out. They have quite a few restaurants, too. The problem here is they’re all expensive. Average meals range in price from $10 to $14 as opposed to Seattle where I’m used to $7 to $12. The two libraries I’ve been to are par for the course. Architecture here is great if you’re into that sort of thing. Crime isn’t frequent or intense here. About four to six people end up in jail every day because of crimes like drug possession, misdemeanor assaults and driving violations. I did notice an apartment complex that, while not ghetto, did seem ghetto-ish from outside. It has a pretty name, too: Nor’West Village. My name is on their wait list but I hope they don’t pick me.
The beaches here are pristine, almost as if no human has ever set foot on them. That was a surprise given how people love to graffiti and litter at every opportunity. I’m still in the shelter and probably will be for the next month or two. I try to come in late and leave early as much as I can because some of the clients rub me the wrong way. There is no lack of negative personalities here, that’s for sure. Next week I’m driving down to Poulsbo to pick up my bi-pap machine; people complain a lot here about my snoring so the machine should help. So far, I’m surviving. Things could be better, things could be worse. I’ll give the city another a month or two. If things don’t start looking up I may reconsider shooting back to Seattle. We’ll see.